


Stealing a Name

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Babies, Gen, Mentions of labor, i just adore the minister of war, mentions of childbirth but does not occur on screen, writing in a fandom without many names is fuuuuun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: In which two different sets of parents, decades apart, debate how to name their child.I'm going to put SPOILER WARNING on this, because this is the Queen's Thief fandom and everything is a spoiler. So, consider not reading until you've read through Thick as Thieves.





	Stealing a Name

 

 

Inside a palace, a couple speaks to each other. The woman reclines on a bed, holding a child who had, up until five minutes prior, been screaming to prove how alive he was. And had been doing so any moment he wasn’t being fed or sleeping, since the moment he’d been born, three days ago.

The couple loves each other, and adore the admittedly loud babe, managing to squeeze out these precious few days in which they were alone with their youngest.

But now, the Naming Day had arrived, and the couple was… less than in harmony over that topic.

The man, standing next to his wife, rolls his eyes at her stubborn insistence. “We can’t name him that!”

“Like your own name is any better.”

The man blushes and folds his strong arms across a broad chest. He has the frame of a soldier, despite his recent promotion to an office of quite some rank. “It’s a fine name.”

“Yes, and given your occupation, my heart, are you really that concerned over this child’s name?”

“Err.” He rubs the back of his neck. Blushes even deeper, a shade beyond scarlet. It’s that endearment, so hard-won, that flusters him every time. She claimed him, as scarred, as battle-forged and unworthy as he was, to be her heart. Of course, that also gives her the amazing ability to get whatever she wants from him.

She doesn’t even need to steal it, though she certainly could. He smiles, thinking of that. The Queen Thief has already stolen his heart, long ago, and therefore, needs not to steal anything further from him. Of course, she being who she is, knows that completely and utterly, and therefore, delights in stealing kisses and other little favors from him. 

“Perhaps, then, it will be my gift to you.” He kisses her cheek. “After such a difficult birth.”

“Yes, this little one did seem to decide the age old way of exiting was not for him, and insisted on attempting a new path.” She runs a gentle finger over the curve of the babe’s cheek. Asleep, he looked like the softest painting. Awake, he was a hellion. The birth had not been easy, as the child had simply decided that, really, the best way out was trying to burrow through her spine.T he healers had called it back labor, and his wife had called the healers a lot of names.

“You’d think his siblings left him a well marked path,” she smiles, glad it was all over, and her beautiful baby boy was healthy and well. She wishes, if not an easy life for him, as these were not easy times, nor an easy family to be born into, then at least, a happy life.

“Thank all the goddesses for Galen.” the man says, and means it, beyond any other devotional he might say, even in the heat of battle.. Every birth scared him. The idea of losing all the brightness, all the joy in his life. And this time, it had nearly happened. “Yes, my gift to you is the name. We shall name the child what you wish.”

He tries not to think of how delighted his father-in-law will be, or what the child will grow up, with a name like that.

“Thank you, Pax.”

The man’s blush returns at the rare use of his given name.

The babe’s name was just a name, he decides. A name that makes his wife happy, and a name to honor the tradition that currently is driving him insane. After all, he hasn’t seen his favorite book on battle strategy in at least two weeks, and he’s quite sure it’s on a certain altar that he can never recover it from. Thievery is immune to battle plans.

“It's fine.” He re-convinces himself. No one has an easy relationship with their in-laws, not even in Eddis.

“Oh well, now that you say it’s fine, I guess it’s official.” She tugs down the arm of his uniform, and kisses him deeply.

He blushes terribly. Only she can make him blush, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I meant, that it’s good. I’m glad. It’s a gift. And after all, you can’t steal a name.”

His wife goes silent, which is when she’s at her most dangerous. She traces the tiny pert nose of the babe, and he smiles toothless up at her. “Oh, I don’t know. I think if anyone can steal a name, it might be this one. Don’t you think so, my little Eugenides?”

The babe smiles, and from somewhere, both by the mother's side, and far away, someone else smiles too, gazing upon the one that shares his name. He knows, as no one else can, that the babe's mother's wish, for a life of happiness, is not the easiest one to grant, especially not with that name.

But it's a good name, and he vows to do what he can, to steal happiness for his namesake, steal moments of joy from the pain and darkness already woven into the tapestry of his life.

A fine name for a thief, yes, the god decides, but a better one for a king.

 

Years and years later, in another palace, another babe was held in another set of arms, and observed by a father just as doting, although, slightly more fidgety, and certainly less… tall.

This babe, somehow, is even louder than that other babe. Then again, this one was also quite certainly going to be more spoiled.

Fewer cousins and all that. A great deal more relatives, not all of blood, eager to be called aunt and uncle, to assist in the mission of doting and spoiling the child.

And also, a very long-awaited child, to be sure.

But being both long-awaited, and sure to be spoiled, did not necessarily mean that all else would go smoothly, on the naming day.

“Oh no,” said the babe’s mother, wrapping her purple silk shawl back over her shoulder, from where it had fallen when she’d been nursing. One of her attendants said the woman nursed while having the eyes of a tiger, daring anyone to even think of commenting on her at the risk of her own life. Even now, her arms hold the child possessively, a treasure she plans to keep very close.

She knows she does not deserve this joy, this treasure in her arms, after all the things she’s broken over the years. But, the child is hers, and her husband’s, and that makes it all the more dear.

That, however, does not make her husband’s naming request correct. "What about something else," she suggest. "something to describe all we hope for?"

"Give that your name already means peace, I suppose we could name this one after war, since you insist on being the opposite of your name." her husband says flippantly, as if he had not spent every moment of the birth pacing, shouting, praying for her health. As if he does not know exactly why she'd been so warlike in her youth, and all the pain it caused her. It's easier for him to make jokes, instead of admit he's been so afraid, these long nine months, of losing her, when he feels he only so recently won her. 

Or stole her, perhaps, in the way he likes to say things. 

But just because her heart, her life, her child is his, does not mean he's right on this matter. "Absolutely not. Not that name."

“Why not?”

A pause, silence spreading in the royal bedroom.

“You can’t just answer me with a look! That’s not fair!” the father raked a left hand through dark hair, which might just have one or two silver strands, though he would certainly never admit that.

“Considering i’ve been carrying something the weight of a watermelon around for months, and then successfully delivered said watermelon shaped object, with no further help from--”

“You kicked him out”

“No help from-” she begins again.

“You threw a bowl at his head.”

The queen attempt to speak one more. “As I was saying-”

“And then you screamed “you don’t get to give advice on matters you will never experience, you man!”

“Considering-” she tries once more.

“Actually, I think that you might have said “weak-livered man” which is really confusing, given that from what I know of the liver, it’s not much help in childbirth:

“Eugenides!”

At the sound of the shout, the babe wakes up, blinking up at them, and lets out the first soft noise, a tiny coo like a dove. Like the peace they, and all three nations, hope she represents.

“Ah!” the man leaned in, kissed his wife on the cheek, and then, his child on her soft feathery hair. “Wonderful! You’ve named her. How perfect.”

Somewhere, coming from a location both quite close to the parents, and very far away, warm laughter echoes. A fine name for a king, yes. A better name for a queen.

The baby lifts her head, hearing the laughter, and the god smiles down at her.

If any name could be stolen, it was that one.


End file.
